Silence on the Line
by Spike Daft
Summary: Takes place during the movie; Memphis must call upon the Sphinx to help him, and reflects upon how Sphinx came to join the team. Rated R for violence and language.


The receiver of the phone is unpleasantly slick in my clammy hands, the dial tone seeming impatient as my finger hovers over the keypad ****

Author's Note: Vinnie Jones rocks- he's one of my favorite actors and a bloody funny guy to boot. I remember watching him in the Wimbledon football matches and his violence was endlessly amusing, even when the game itself was not. Now he's made it to the big screen, where he belongs, and plays the most bad-ass characters I've seen in quite a while. Unfortunately, they're all relatively minor characters, so it's up to the insomniac fanfic writer to help fill them in. Right now I'm the only one to elaborate on Vinnie's characters (or even just the movies themselves; I've come across only a handful of "60 Seconds" fic, one "Snatch" fic, and not a single "Lock, Stock" fic. The sadness!!), but I hope that changes soon as he becomes noticed more in this country. 

Anyway, for all the Sphinx-lovers out there who think he stole the show (Nick Cage was kinda bland in this movie) and was the sole factor that made "60 Seconds" stop just shy of a crap movie, this is for you. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters from "Gone in 60 Seconds". If I did I would have a better car.

Silence on the Line

The receiver of the phone is unpleasantly slick in my clammy hands, the dial tone seeming impatient as my finger hovers over the keypad. Amazingly, I remember the number to the morgue, and I remember also that I hate the attendants there; suspicious yet cowardly, sniveling nasal voices blaring into my ear as though they weren't aware that there's a microphone in the mouthpiece of the phone. Oh, well- fuck 'em. I need to make this call; I have to talk to him. 

We call him the Sphinx- he's never spoken a word, never told us a name or a past. He does his work with the grimmest of efficiency, and has done so the same way ever since I met him. I am confident that he'll do this favor for me; he never fails to lend a massive, skilled hand to help out his associates. I used to wonder why he thought of us as associates despite the length of time we'd known each other and the tasks we'd survived. Since then I have been told (by Atley, who knows him better than anyone) that he holds no value to the term "friend", being of the firm opinion that business forges stronger bonds than does long walks in the park and earnest conversation.

Which leaves me wanting to slap myself because I'm still nervous about calling him- hell, he's not even going to say anything and my heart's pounding. Everyone respects him, but they're scared of him too. His size alone could do that, but his constant silence heightens the tension when no one has much to say, not to mention that virtually nothing is known about him. Only that he was badly wounded while coming to Atley's aid some years back, which resulted in his joining our little team. 

A little history lesson then, if you will…

* * *

Atley had inadvertently boosted a car one night that had just been stolen by a gang of crack-dealers; petty thieves- car boosting wasn't their foundation of business, only a tantalizing side dish- but they were tough and large in number. He was halfway done before they saw him, realized that he was doing, and started beating the shit out of him. Then, out of the blue, Atley says, Sphinx hurls himself into them like a cyclone and sends them flying. Atley still doesn't know how Sphinx knew he was there, and of course Sphinx won't tell. 

Atley's been cut on the scalp by this time and is bleeding heavily, and although the wound isn't serious, it looks that way and Sphinx is royally pissed off. He and Atley had been acquainted for a while; Atley had given him a good deal on the restoration of his '69 Chevelle Malibu- brought Sphinx's baby blue roaring back to life with a brand new 350 engine, thus placing himself firmly on Sphinx's good side. 

So Atley took care of Sphinx, and in turn Sphinx takes care of Atley- he finishes up getting the car started after tossing Atley, still slightly dazed, into the back seat. He's just climbing in when two of the guys, who had been hiding around the side of the garage during the initial skirmish, come up behind him. One of them plunges a box cutter into Sphinx's side and rips downward, and as Sphinx whirls around the other guy is poised with a truck wrench- swings as hard as he can and catches Sphinx full across the side of the head. But Sphinx doesn't drop but starts towards them, and the guys get spooked and run off. Sphinx turns, staggers a few paces back towards the car, and crashes down. Atley, who has by now recovered himself, gets out of the car and runs to help him. Sphinx is covered in blood and out cold, so Atley somehow manages to haul him into the back seat as the other guys are regrouping, and by some miracle gets the car started again and gets the righteous fuck out of there and back to the garage.

I was there when Atley drove in: the first thing I noticed was a beautiful, gleaming silver Benz, and the second thing I noticed was the blood smeared all over one side of the car. Atley gets out and runs around to the back door, wrenching it open as Sway, Donny Astricky, Otto, and myself stand there stupefied. He reaches in and hauls out literally one of the biggest men I've ever seen. The sight of him- huge, lithe, muscled, not to mention covered with blood, was enough to make me take an unconscious step backward. Beside me I felt Sway do the same.

" What the fuck have you brought home?" asks Donny, moving forward to lend a hand. Together they get Sphinx out of the car and sit him propped up against the tire. He's just coming to, and looks down to see himself sitting in a puddle of blood. His mean-looking eyes are slightly sunken and purplish patches are showing up under them- not a good sign, but then again his being alive is a pretty good sign after a terrific blow to the head like that.

" Gentlemen, meet the Sphinx," pants Atley. " Now give me a fucking hand here, okay?"

Sway manages to find a clean towel and hands it to Atley, obviously a bit too nervous to touch Sphinx herself, which I completely understand. Otto moves forward to help after a moment, inspecting the head wound with the skilled eye of someone who's seen his fair share of street "accidents". 

" He needs a hospital," he says, but suddenly Sphinx sits up as best he can and shakes his head vehemently, sending droplets of blood flying as he glares at Otto, who backs off. 

" He hates hospitals," Atley says, "and I don't blame him. And anyway, it's too risky. They're keeping a close enough eye on him already and if he goes in with injuries like that they'll know what's up."

We've all known that story, so there's no disagreement there, and we listen as Otto makes coffee and Atley tells us what happened. Don hunts up some gauze, medical tape, a needle, and thread from the various First Aid kits lying around the garage, and sets out carefully removing Sphinx's shirt, keeping a cautious eye on him all the while. 

Sway smiles despite herself as she sees the tattoos Sphinx has- she has a weakness for them, and once spent an entire day trying to convince me to get one. I think they're pointless, personally. 

In about an hour the gash on Sphinx's side is sewn and he's sufficiently recovered his senses, although still slightly dazed, and makes it on his own to the couch by Otto's office door. Atley marvels at this- he's seen men killed by similar injuries and this new stranger is up and walking within an hour of the attack. Otto announces that he'll keep Sphinx with him for a while, until he's healed enough not to catch unwanted attention.

With Sphinx taken care of Atley grabs a wet cloth, wipes off the blood on his own face and applies a bandage to the cut on his head, and then starts cleaning off the car. Sway moves forward to help, whispering to him, "Doesn't he talk?"

" Nope," Atley says. " What do you think- is he good enough to join our little team? After all, he just saved my ass."

" It's your call," I say. " You're the one who knows him best."

So it's settled. Hey- so there's a little intimidation on the team now. It'll keep us on our toes, which is a good thing, as long as we keep off of Sphinx's.

* * * 

After a few more seconds of fighting with myself, I finally pluck up the nerve to dial Sphinx's number. Sure enough a nasal voice answers after the second ring. I ask for Sphinx, get put on hold for a moment, and then I hear the other end picked up. Silence on the line.

" Sphinx, is that you?"

Silence.

" If it's you, press a button."

Silence for a brief moment, as though he's amused by this. Then the beep chirps though the earpiece; now we're in business. 

I tell him everything, about all the trouble Kip's gotten into. As I'm talking it occurs to me that the silence on the other end is eerie; I can't even hear any breathing. It's the strangest feeling, talking on the phone and having no one talk back. It's almost like outside the little room I'm sitting in everything is nothingness, everything is silence. I get goosebumps after a while and hurry up with the rest of the story.

" So," I say, " will you help me?"

Silence. Duh. Why can't I get it through my head that he's not going to answer me?

" Press a button if you will," I say, and instantly feel dumb. Sphinx humors me, though, and presses a button. Relief floods over me and I gratefully babble my thanks. There is no need to tell him a time or place- he'll find me. Presently I hear him hang up, and the dial tone blares in my ear as I lay my head down on the desk, praying for my brother. I'm about to go on one hell of an adventure, but with Sphinx there to back me up, along with Otto and, hopefully, a good part of the old team, I just might have a fighting chance.


End file.
